Kissing the Flame
by Wolfchild101
Summary: What happened that night after the ordeal at San Venganza?


Authors note: No Im not dead. Been hammering away at this story that has been bugging me since i first say Ghost Rider. There are no hurt/comfort fics for Ghost Rider. If anyone knows of any please let me know because I would love to read some. Been working on my infamous "To Save A Demon," story. Should have that posted soon. Anyway on with the fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own Ghost Rider or any related characters. This fic was p created purely for entertainment and no monetary gain was made.

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The ride from San Venganza had been hell. Riding all day, the sun was setting by the time they arrived at Johnny's loft. Johnny killed the bike's motor and slumped forward between the handlebars. He had put the kickstand down but seemed to go into a trance while Roxanne dismounted the bike. When she stood on the ground ,she grabbed Johnny's stiff shoulder and began to coax him off the bike.

"Come on. Ive got you," she murmured. With one hand on him and the other on Grace's handlebars ,she helped him dismount but the biker wouldnt let go. He stared at the ground between the handlebars with eerie intensity,his mind reliving some horror she wished she could soothe away.

"Come here," she put her left hand on his white-knuckled fist and spoke soflty in his ear. His clenched jaw loosened as did his grip on the bike. Never before had the reporter seen her friend so tired and defeated.

Once Johnny let go of the bike there was a metal click and she could see the kickstand had lifted itself into its groove and Grace now stood on her own. Johnny turned around before she could stop him and took in the sight of the self-supporting motorcycle. His haunted blue eyes looked on numbly before a sigh emanated from his lips and he turned forward again.

Of all that had occured in the past few days,this was the least surprising. Without a backward glance, the brown eyed woman helped him forward,step by agonizing step and step , and without a sound Grace followed like a loyal steed.

It took them a good ten minutes to reach the lift but when they did she found it to be unlocked. The two of them entered along with the hellbike and with a metallic groan they were lifted into Johnny's home.

The place was just like they had left with greasy motorcycle parts and supernatural books scattered about. Roxanne tried to ignore the books piled high in the corner. Johnny seemed to look in their direction and she saw his heart wither.

They climbed onto the mezzanine together and soon they were in the bathroom where she seated him on the toilet lid.

"I want to die," she heard him whisper and with a sudden look she saw the raw emotion in his gaze. It was the same look he had given when she came to apologize. A resigned look full of sorrow and acceptance.

It was then that she began to understand just how broken he really was.

"Don't say that," was all she could muster as her throat tightened.

She saw his lower lip begin to tremble and he leaned back against the toilet tank simply staring at her hands down at his boots. With deft fingers she began to untie his laces,easily batting his hands away.

Next,she helped him slid off his jacket which hurt his stiff shoulders. Soon, he sat on the toilet lid,trembling. Without his clothes, he felt vulnerable so he folded his arms and leaned forward to hide witihin himself.

Roxanne could tell by now he was out of it and she wondered if he could stand for a shower. His wounds needed to be cleaned and she would have to work quickly. With a grunt,she stood and went to work finding an adequate water temperature for him. Once this was done,she grabbed his right hand with her's and placed her other hand on his ribs.

His skin felt hot to her delicate touch and she bit her lip in worry. She tried not to be hypnotized by his twitching body. His muscles were beautiful and the way they moved captivated her. She had always been conservative when it came to cuddling with Johnny and their teenage love never escalated above "making out".

He whimpered slightly as she rubbed the tight muscles in his chest working in the soap . All over she did this until finally he was clean. Grabbing a towel, the woman began to hum quietly to herself. She patted him dry and sat him once again on the lowered toilet lid.

His breathing was fast and harsh while his eyes had taken on a glazed look.

"Ill be right back," she muttered but he didnt seem to hear. She kissed his cheek with her soft lips and quickly left to complete her task.

Although Johhny was out of it he could hear muffled thumps coming from outside of the bathroom. Was it Blackheart,back to take vengeance on him? Or worse, to hurt the only thing keeping him sane?

With a pained grunt, Johnny stood on his feet and teetered over to the doorway. Whatever strength he had left was quickly drained and he felt to the hard tile with a loud thump. This however didnt stop him for long for he began to crawl,albeit shakily to the entryway.

The only thing he could see from his level was her feet but he could hear her gasp and in a few seconds he was lost in her earthy orbs.

"C-cant ...let him...h-hurt you.." he mumbled.

He watched sadly as her eyes began to water and tear. Guilt crushed his already broken heart and he realized that once more he had been the source of her pain. She couldnt lift him to his feet as they were both weak with fatigue. So,she helped him crawl forward to the overly thick pallet of blankets she had made on the carpet. A mound of pillows sat opposite a blazing fire whose heat was comforting.

Already, he could see that one corner of a blanket was turned back,awaiting him. She sat him down on his butt and cradled his head in the crook of her arm onto the pillow. He lay still,head turned to the opposite side of where she sat.

Gently,she rubbed his heaving chest in small tight circles, trying not only to loosen his tight muscles but to let him know she was there. That she was real. She worked down around his ribs,gently prodding for injuries. When she thought she felt none she went back up to his shoulders,kneading his tired flesh.

Down once more she went on his arms, and used her thumbs to rub his palms. Every joint felt tight with worry. Johnny looked at her through half lidded eyes and by now his breathing had softened. Her fingers lingered over his old scars,poking and sliding over them.

Johnny's flesh jumped at the contact and he turned his head to the side letting loose a low moan.

"Shush,its okay," she whispered as she rubbed his temples.

Where did he get all these scars she wondered and the closer she looked the more concerned she became. Thin and white,she had seem them before. Mostly they were on his upper body where they would be hidden from plain view by clothing.

Putting aside her questions, she leaned down to kiss him and grabbed the antiseptic to clean his wounds. The ones that worried her the most were the series of four deep slash marks on Johnny's abdomen from Blackheart's claws. By now, he was totally relaxed.

He gave a contented sigh and leaned back further into the pillow. There were dark circles under his eyes making her wonder how he had been sleeping. Something told her not very well. She dabbed at the slash marks making Johnny wince again. His large hands gripped at the blanket that came to his waist. He was still naked beneath the white comforter yet he didn't seem to notice.

Just then she heard the lift begin to work and turned her head toward the sound. It was Stuart.

"Hey," was all he said when he saw her running her fingers through Johnny's damp hair. He had suspected there was a history between the two of them and this confirmed it.

Johnny grunted as the sound of footsteps and tried to sit up but Roxanne's tender urge to lay down was too much for him to resist.

"It's just Stuart, Johnny. You remember him,don't you?" She received no answer but then again she hadn't expected one.

In Stuart's hand was a black bag of medical supplies and his face looked grim but he set to work tending the wounds of his boss's boyfriend. The reporter re-positioned herself so that the biker's head lay in her lap and she wrapped her arm over his shoulders in a sort of head-lock.

She had called Stuart when she had set up the pallet of blankets on the floor. Of course ,like anyone else, the young man had been concerned for her safety. She had told him she was fine but Johnny Blaze was another story.


End file.
